I've always rathered brunettes
by hi-fi mixup
Summary: AubreyRisika. In the past few months, Risika has been asking about Aubrey's whereabouts even more than usual. Might she have something up her sleeve?
1. Enter Stella

A/N: This is my first fan fiction of AAR's work, so bear with me. I've been trying to get into this more, actually, but I've never had a spurt of creativity that lasted long enough. Well, the second chapter will hopefully be up soon.

Disclaimer: Amelia Atwater-Rhodes is a genius. I am not. She owns every character in this chapter except for Stella, who is my own gal. The plot is mine, though it is still in the developing stage.

I've always rathered brunettes.

By: Abby (aka hi-fi mixup)

"It is not your color, Aubrey."

The fabric of my shirt pulled taut around my waist as I turned it, facing the woman that had just addressed me. A smile formed at the corners of her mouth, which was slicked in red gloss. Her teeth shone even brighter than her Vampiric-black eyes did in the dim lighting. I held back a chuckle, twisting my upper body back around at an attempt to snub the blonde. I heard the quiet click of her heel as it knocked on the tile behind me. The thick odor of her French perfume overpowered my sense of smell, and I smiled a little. It was a silly act of mine, actually. No one could properly "ignore" Stella. It might have been her steadfast diligence or maybe the way her chest always seemed to attract your eyes. Hell, I didn't know. She did have a nice rack, though.

"Maybe," I said quietly, not moving my face an inch to meet her eyes, which I felt staring over every inch my skin. "But, I like it."

Stella snorted, sliding onto the stool beside me. "You were never meant to wear bright colors. The darker hues fit you so well," she purred. Spurts of air pushed against my ear and chin, her breath as sultry as her entire appearance. I felt as if every word tied another string around my heart. The stool squeaked as I stood, my hands sliding into my pockets, and I walked across the room. Those strings ripped from the sudden distance. "Do not try to tempt me, Stella. I'm not that erratic. That night meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing." For a moment, her face became distorted with pain.

Everything I said was true, if only a little. That night hadn't been filled with the ecstasy she swore that I'd feel every second of it. No, it had only brought weights onto my shoulders, mental and physical restraints. Even now, twenty years later, I held back a hiss every time our eyes met. I'd met Stella in a bar outside of New York. She'd been just another wild blonde, with a painted face and a tight skirt. Her hair had been pulled back from her face, only allowing a few tendrils of bangs to fall, eyebrow-length, into her features. Blue eyes had scoped me out from across the bar.

She'd bounced right into my life for what she thought was just a wild ride. A wild ride that turned her into what she was now. Whether I liked it or not, I was blood bonded to this saucy, yet controlling, girl. That's what I got for thinking with anything other than my brain. One little tilt of her angular face and a glance at her form-fitting tank top, and I'd been won over. I regretted it now, yes, but it didn't seem like the worse thing to do at the time.

"But, Aubrey," she started, turning her chin away from me. Her black eyes fluttered closed, and I turned to face the wall opposite of this pitiful scene. "Stella, you are just another face in the crowd to me," - I turned to face her again- "Plus, you know I've always loved brunettes." I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Over the years, she'd snuffed out my flame more times than I could ever make up for. This was a sort of "quick retribution", I guess. Her eyes were rimmed with tears as she looked up at me now, the smile on her face had faded to deadpan. "It's not funny, Aubrey. I'm... sorry, I'm sorry. I want you back. If you'd only believe me."

Her voice was genuinely hurt. I think I liked seeing her this way.

"Risika was always right! All those times when she tried to give me advice, she was right." "What did you say?" I took a step closer to the woman and she shrunk back to the bar's counter. Everyone knew that I despised Risika. Everyone. "I...," her voice was shallow, and she couldn't raise her eyes to meet mine. "I said that Risika was ri-" She cut herself off with a gasp as she fell backwards, her hands shooting up to her cheeks, covering the reddening spot where the back of my hand had impacted. My voice deepened. "Do not speak her name around me!" I stood over her, passing my fingers through the front of my black hair. I covered my mouth as I coughed, shoving my previous actions to the side so nonchalantly. Stella struggled to her feet before slipping out of the room unnoticed, her cheeks still burning more with humiliation than with pain.

"I can't believe that she's still on my back. I've never met such a persistent girl in my life."

I laughed to myself again, turning back around and letting my eyes search over my apartment. It was simple: one bedroom, a small kitchen and dining room, and an allotted area for sitting. I didn't need to live in simplicity, but I enjoyed it, I guess. I hired a woman every month or so to clean up, and dust, and that sort of thing. She never asked any questions, that's what I liked in a woman. But, no, Stella couldn't be that way, of course not. She would be far more attractive if she would just shut her mouth for more than two seconds. My chest rose and fell with a sigh; and I took a few steps forward, bending to pick up the stool that she had knocked over. "Klutz," I smiled.


	2. A dark alley, hmm?

Midnight Scribbler: Stella and Aubrey had a fling, yes. I'll be doing a lot of jumping around, so if you ever have ANY questions, just ask.

MellowyelloW2007: Stella is a character of mine. This story is set before Demon in my View, but after A Forest In the Night.

Draco-and-Hermione22: Thanks a lot. :')

A/N: This is my first fan fiction of AAR's work, so bear with me. The third chapter is coming. I'd really like it if I got some reviews. Hehe, I feel so left out. I'm sorry for this super short chapter. Aubrey is mega OOC in this one for the first few chapters. But, I think its sweet.

Disclaimer: Amelia Atwater-Rhodes is a genius. I am not. She owns every character in this chapter except for Stella, who is my own gal. The plot is mine, though it is still in the developing stage.

My breath was shallow as I pressed my back against the wall. Chest rising and falling, the skin of my shoulders prickled with goose bumps from the cold bricks. "Come out of there, you little brat. I just want to play a little game of sorts." "Yeah, right," I hollered back to him. A quiet snicker echoed down the alleyway he stood in front of, twin pistols gripped in his palms and held at his waist. "Aubrey, I never meant to hurt you. So, don't you dare hurt me." I let my eyes fall closed as I leaned my head against the wall behind me. He was after me like a cat after a mouse. From Milan to Paris, and back to New York again, he trailed one step behind me, waiting for me to mess up before he'd pounce.

"Don't play innocent with me. It won't work. This is what your get for breaking my heart, you cold bitch."

My heart dropped. So that's what he was after me for? A simple broken heart? He was going to kill me because of a fling that I'd thrown aside? "That's what I plan on doing." "Shit." "What? Forgot I who I was?" My shoulders slumped forward, and my chin fell against my chest. Yes, Aubrey was stronger than myself, but I'd forgotten exactly how much stronger. I could feel him, right around the corner, his back against the same building as mine. "I told you that I was sorry. Can't you hear?" My voice was edged with frustration, and my hands were shaking. They could barely even hold the knives that I had my fingers wrapped around.

"I can hear you," he started, pushing his hair out of his eyes and tucking it behind one of his ears. A smile melted across his face- sardonic. "And I understand you. But, I don't think you understand me. What we had was perfect, and then you vanished. You were stupid to think you could run away from me. Stupid." He spit out the last word, his black hair falling into his face again. The dark locks contrasted with his nearly translucent skin, like day and night. A tear fell off of his face, landing on the concrete beneath him. His knuckles gleamed white as he tightened his grip around two pistols, his index fingers twitching on the trigger.

A gasp flew out of my mouth as he slipped into my view; his nose almost touched my own. Those eyes of his stared straight into mine, and I watched my reflection shrink back. My eyes slammed shut as I felt the pads of his fingers, tenderly, trace along the skin my cheek. I backed up, only to be met by him getting closer, and the heels of my boots hit the building behind me. An animal like him shouldn't be capable of such a soft touch. Aubrey pressed his lips to both of my closed eyes, passing his thumbs over them. "I think I might have loved you," his breath cascaded over my face and I shuddered at his words. I had to wet my lips before I could speak. M y voice still cracked. "You think? I didn't think a vampire had reason,"

"And I never thought I could love, either. Clearly, you changed a lot of things in me."

"You didn't love me, Aubrey. Maybe it was lust. I know you're capable of that." He hissed through his two rows of bleach-white teeth, turning away from me as if he'd been slapped. I couldn't help but let a smile surface onto my lips. My palms were damp with sweat from the close encounter, making it hard for me to keep a hold onto the knives. I wiped them both on the sides of my black jeans and glanced towards Aubrey. He stood a few feet away, his arms wrapped around his stomach and the twin guns in their own holsters. "How dare you speak to me that way? HOW DARE YOU?" I watched him pace, his eyes hooked to the ground, not noticing the threat that stood before him.

"Kinsley Ash, witch extraordinaire, who would have thought I could actually say that I loved you? We met that night in Chicago, remember? You danced against me, ignoring that feeling that I know all witches get around me. There was something 'in my eyes' wasn't there? You thought you could change me. You thought that you could change my ways. But, no, you saw me the next day, my lips at the throat of a tourist. Did you want me all to yourself? Was that it? I should have sucked you dry the night I met you!"

Before I could fall into a ready stance, he had me at the throat. I felt him raise me from the ground, and I choked, pushing myself against the wall. A drip of sweat slipped down my back. My stomach clenched as I heard him unholster one of the two guns, and my entire world faded to black.


	3. Meeting at Ambrosia

A/N: Okay, so I'm very satisfied with this chapter. It introduced Risika into the story, and also a boy called Ryan. Hope you like it, and don't forget to RR. Sorry about the jumping around in POVs. I can't help it, really.

Disclaimer: Amelia Atwater-Rhodes is a genius. I, sadly, am not. She owns every character in this chapter except for: Stella, Kinsley Ash, and now Ryan. The plot is mine, though.

"Kinsley is dead, Milady Risika."

The boy told her under his breath, his head tilted to the vampire respectfully. "Aubrey told me to give you the message." Risika watched from her barstool as he kneaded his hands together with uneasiness, her golden eyes shimmering in the dim lighting of Ambrosia. A human only held to this different world by a blood-bond had reason to be afraid, due to the others' tendency to 'play with their food'. Or maybe he was held by a blood claim, the only law that every vampire abided by. Who knew? The thumping music echoed in both of their skulls, filled with bass that shook the glasses behind the bar. "Well, that is very polite of him, isn't it?" she said sarcastically, crossing one long leg over the other.

"He said that you would react this way, Milady." "Do not use those formalities around me! I'm already sick of it!" The boy looked up at her, his cobalt eyes shivering. His skin had paled ten shades from it's typical tan since he'd entered the club, and he could have passed for one of them by appearance alone. He had Caesar-style black hair and his chin was stippled with tiny hairs of the same black, as if he hadn't shaved in a few days. He wore all black, like many of Aubrey's blood-bonds. The ebony fabric of his shirt formed well against his subtly muscular frame, and his black pants fell baggy around his boots. A leather cord was wrapped around his neck, twined around three blue stones, likely sapphires.

"And he said that you were stupid to send a witch so weak after him."

Risika stood at that, grabbing the boy by his chin and pulling him into a standing position. He towered six inches over her, but the explosive look in her eyes didn't falter. "How old are you, boy?" she hissed. "I am seventeen, Mi-... Risika." He tried desperately to make her let him go, closing his eyes in humility and struggling to release himself from her hand. He spit her name out as if it tasted badly on his tongue. A sharp crack was heard as the palm of her hand impacted his cheek, and he fell to his knees in front of her.

"What is your name?" she yelled, her hands still gripped onto his jaw, causing him to look up at her.

"What am I playing? Twenty questions?"

"Your sarcasm isn't welcome here, fool. Tell me your name." "It's... Ryan," he coughed, opening his eyes finally. The gold eyes met the blue, and the latter stared audaciously into the former. Even in his position, Ryan's face was calm. This was a different boy from earlier, a completely different one. He no longer shook, but kneeled in front of the woman, his eyes boldly defiant. "You'd make a nice vampire, you know." He blinked, his cerulean eyes staring up at a changed woman. Her face had softened from a scowl into a smirk, and she kneeled in front of him. "You're strong-willed, a good trait of one such as me. But, you're Aubrey's. He's the one that makes the decisions for you. Kinsley was weak. I, on the other hand, could take him with my hand tied behind my back."

"Why didn't you go after him yourself?"

"I already have his blood, I don't need any more," she laughed. The muscles in her thighs tensed as she stood, shifting onto the same barstool she had unseated herself from moments before. "You remind me of myself when I was still a mortal. Stubborn, self-efficient, strong." Ryan cracked a smile, his eyes mutely asking her if he could stand. Her blonde hair shifted over her shoulders as she nodded, and he complied. He sat quietly on the stool next to her. "Thank you," he said quietly, running his fingers swiftly through his short hair.

She turned on the stool and looked at him, resting her forearm on the lacquered bar counter. "There are things that I know, Ryan. Aubrey doesn't take care of his 'friends', his 'allies'. Which is why he never gives me his messages himself. He's afraid. After our fight, he became afraid of anything not mortal or witch. The Ash line is made of non-combatants, that is why I chose Kinsley. I do this to tempt him out of his hold." He nodded, taking in every word of her speech. His lips parted to speak, but melted into a smile instead. Those blue eyes of his sparkled. "So, you will kill him?"

"Tell Aubrey I'll win next time."


End file.
